


Voyeur

by edibleflowers



Category: Popslash
Genre: M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-19
Updated: 2012-09-19
Packaged: 2017-11-14 14:02:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/515986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edibleflowers/pseuds/edibleflowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>JC catches sight of something unexpected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Voyeur

I come to in a daze, and it takes a moment of blinking disorientation for me to become aware of my surroundings. As I attempt to focus my eyes in the dim light, I realize that I'm in the main area of the bus.

That's it: I remember now, that we'd all piled on one bus for some godforsaken reason after the show. I think there was a security problem, something that had Todd shoving us all into one bus and telling them to get the hell out. Whatever it was, we'd decided to deal with it the best we could.

Granted, we don't get along all the time. We get on each other's nerves a lot, and on tour, when it gets to the point where we're living in each other's pockets, shit happens, tempers flare, stuff goes down.

But sometimes, like tonight, it's okay. We had a great show, absolutely no mess-ups, and the crowd was unbelievably responsive to the new stuff as well as the old. We were all riding high on that feeling of knowing we did awesome. And all of us together in the one bus reminded me of back when no one knew who we were, in Germany and France and Spain, riding around in a smelly old piece of garbage bus that carried everything we owned. We'd get cold, in the middle of the night, when the heat didn't work; and we'd all end up piled together in the main room, using bellies and laps and arms for pillows, all of our blankets on top of us. A puppypile, my mom would call that when my brother and sister would jump on me. Now, I'm kind of embarrassed to admit it, but I still like curling up with the guys, even when we don't have to. It's comforting, like peanut butter and jelly, sort of.

In the spirit of things, we all settled down to watch some movies. Justin and Chris were laying on the floor, with Justin's head resting on Chris' stomach; Lance, Joey and I took the big leopard-print divan, careless of where we lay. Physical closeness, personal space, stopped being an issue for us somewhere back during the first few weeks of rehearsal, when we were in training twelve hours a day, six days a week, and goofing off usually came about through wrestling and play fights and games of "I never".

So we watched movies, all of us lazy and tired on each other. I had a yen to see _A New Hope_ , so that was first, followed by _Pulp Fiction_ and, for some reason, _Fargo_. I've seen that enough times that I could follow the plot in my sleep; somewhere in the middle of it, I began to blink drowsily, and I don't remember anything after Marge got hit on by the old friend from high school.

So now, when I wake, it takes me a moment to remember all of this. I realize that there's a blanket on me, and that I'm alone on the divan; the others must have gone to bed, then. As I push to my feet, I gather up the blanket, wondering vaguely who's parked where. Hoping that no one's taken my bunk -- hoping a little that someone has, simply for the creature comfort of a body's warmth -- I head to the rear of the bus.

I toss the blanket into my bunk, which is unoccupied, and I'm about to jump in and get settled in when I hear a noise. It takes me by surprise; this late at night (or early in the morning), there's usually nothing but the quiet engine hum, steady thrum of wheels on pavement, and maybe a little faint music from the bus driver's low radio. This is a different noise, wholly human in nature. I wonder if one of the others is awake, too, and glance at the other bunks.

Two of them have curtains shut tight, but the rest are either completely or partially open. I glance cursorily at each, then freeze at the last -- one of the bottom ones, at the far back, its curtains gaping wide. More noise from there draws me, a trail of breadcrumbs: a quiet gasp, and the sound of something soft and wet.

I shouldn't look, but I can't resist. I glance inside, and what I see takes me by complete surprise. Within the small confines of the bunk, two bodies are pressed close together. Two half-naked bodies. Bodies belonging to Joey and Lance; I can tell by the builds, by the hair, by the ring flashing on one hand of Lance's, which is buried in Joey's hair.

It's too late. I've already seen the bare flesh, skin darkened by lust; I'm frozen in place, rooted to the spot with curiosity and amazement. _How long_..? drifts through my head, and, _Joe_?

And not only that, but Joey is the one with Lance's cock in his mouth. Between his lips, hard engorged muscle slips, glides back and forth, glistening wetly in the darkness--

 _Jesus Christ_. I'm transfixed. Entranced by the sight. Joey worships Lance with his lips and tongue, his head bobbing eagerly on Lance's cock. One of his hands rubs Lance's belly, moving up and down to his upper thigh with a firm, steadying touch. The other massages the base of Lance's stiff erection, milking him. And fuck if the sight isn't making me hard as a rock inside my loose shorts.

As quietly as possible, I ease to a kneeling position, trying to get a better view while -- hopefully -- remaining as discreet as possible. I'm definitely not tired anymore. Hell, if I was sure they wouldn't see me, I'd be jerking off in a heartbeat. As it is--

Lance's head raises up from where it was pressed into the pillow, and suddenly his eyes open. Though the cabin is dim, I'm certainly not invisible -- but his eyes lock onto mine, and, slowly, lazily, he smiles. Then he closes his eyes again, returns his focus to enjoyment of the pleasure Joey's giving him. (What the--? I breathe to myself, but I'm immensely relieved at the same time, that he's not upset that I was watching--) And damn, Joey must really be doing something good, because a few moments later Lance stiffens and pushes up into Joey's mouth, fucking Joey's lips hard, Lance's expression twisting in a grimace of ecstasy.

Joey's throat works furiously. I see liquid trailing out the corners of his mouth, though, and he brushes at the drops with his knuckles to catch them, licking up Lance's come. That sight nearly pushes me over the edge, and Jesus, I haven't even touched myself. As Joey moves up to lay next to Lance, I slip back, thankful that in bare feet I'm quiet on the floor runners, and hoist myself into bed.

Later, maybe, I'll ask them about what was going on. For right now, I'm just glad there's no one in my bunk.


End file.
